


The Tabasco Film Company Adventure

by peaceloveandjocularity, stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M, mention of conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Hawkeye throws a viewing party with Henry's leftover films. Charles doesn't approve.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	The Tabasco Film Company Adventure

On the anniversary of Henry Blake’s return to the States (after some terrible misinformation that had caused him to be mistakenly declared dead), Hawkeye Pierce threw a private viewing party of some of the spicy film reels their former Commander had so relished. Colonel Potter begged off, saying this sort of thing was for a younger crowd, and Charles left quickly, going white, then red… then just  _ going _ \- straight into the light and laughing form of Maxwell Q. Klinger. 

“They didn't tell you what they'd be watching, huh?” the Corporal guessed. 

“Ah, no. The joke seems to be on me.”  _ As usual _ . “You were, I assume, invited? O’Reilly was there.” 

“Yeah.” Klinger looked uncomfortable, a rare thing. “I’m not into the watching porn thing.” 

“Well, Max, it may comfort you to know that my education in, ah, that flavor of anatomy is largely limited to plastic overlays in textbooks.” 

Given the usual nature of their friendship - they bantered as easily as they breathed - Charles expected Klinger to joke with him. Instead, he said, “That’s about as real as those videos are. I don’t like having to look at what I don’t got… and won’t get.” 

Charles didn’t just feel off-balance; he felt dizzy. Sex was not something he knew how to approach in his thoughts or in his speech. His family’s misguided attempts to correct the nature of his desires had too often made him slam the door on the whole thing. Better alone than stigmatized even in his own mind. The first thing he’d imagined as soon as that video had started had been a syringe of lightly glowing citrine fluid. But he was long free of his tormentors and Klinger was his friend. “Why do you think you’re destined to be alone, Corporal? Tastes too refined for this paradise for parasites?” 

Klinger didn’t answer right away. “Want to get a drink, Major?” 

Charles knew that Max rarely drank; this was his way of requesting his company. “Do you have any of that citrus tea left?” 

Max grinned. “The orange blossom? Sure.” 

They ended up in the colorful eye of the ever-expanding, ever-tasteful Klinger collection; Charles contributed shortbread cookies Honoria had sent him to their tea party. Klinger looked them over and chuckled. “The Captains would have a field day and I’m not even in a dress!”

“We’ve every right to pursue different pleasures than they, Max. Our so-called unlikely friendship would have been more unlikely still if your tastes were those of Hawkeye Pierce. And as I recall, you were telling me about them before we arrived here.” 

Klinger frowned; he’d sort of hoped Charles had forgotten. “My tastes kinda  _ are _ like Captain Pierce's-- anyone who will have me. Except unlike Captain Pierce, no one actually wants me.”

Charles frowned at him. “I am about to become concerned about your eyesight, Corporal. I have seen you in the O Club on the arms of several lovely individuals.”

“Wanting a dance and wanting  _ me _ are a bit different, sir.”

“Oh? I don't understand why that would be the case.”

Klinger nudged Charles with his shoulder. “I’m a good dance partner, why wouldn't anyone want to dance with me?”

“You are very mischievous tonight. You know that isn't what I meant.” He fought off the thought of Klinger’s skirt flaring as he spun. 

But Klinger winked a dark eye. “I can lead, I can follow-- I'm the perfect partner.” 

Charles saw something in those dark eyes. “We are no longer talking about dancing are we?”

“I don't know, Major. Are we?” He didn’t touch the dignified creature but his voice was warm with potential. 

“Not to introduce more analogies to this mad night, Max, but I am in over my head here.” 

Klinger nudged him again, with his knee this time. “If you want to dance, we can dance. If you don't want to dance or... anything... we don't have to. But I like you Major. I'll throw my heart out there.” 

“If you are going to, you picked the right kind of doctor,” Charles said softly, eyes holding his. “Let's go dancing, Corporal.”

Klinger stayed very still. “Dancing or  _ dancing _ ?” 

“You lead.” 

Klinger’s hand came to rest on his leg. “Yeah, sure. I can lead, Major.”

Charles sighed. “Thank you.” 

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Since you’ve gone dancing?” 

“Was that somehow less than clear?” 

“Some guys just don’t like leading.” 

“I... I do not know what anyone likes. I have scolded the captains for their preoccupation with these matters but I was, perhaps, masking my own discomfort.” 

Klinger turned his hand over in an ask; Charles took it. “Eh, Captain Pierce is loud about everything. And he’s a terrible leader.”

“Personal experience?” Charles asked, heart in his mouth. 

“Almost,” Klinger teased. “But I turned him down. So quit looking that way, sad eyes, and let me teach you some new steps.” 

Without loosening his hold on Charles’ hand, Klinger slipped his legs over his lap and began to kiss him softly, sweetly. He started at the edge of his mouth and made for the center, giving Charles the chance to turn away or toward him. The Major kept quite still until Klinger’s tongue stole inside - then he moaned. 

“You got this, baby,” Max praised him. 

“Perhaps, but having exhausted these lessons - what becomes of us then?” 

“Then we learn things together.” 

“Oh.” His mouth already missed that seeking tongue. 

“You don’t have to dance with me if you don’t want to,” Klinger reassured him. “We can just kiss.” 

“There is no part of me that doesn't want to... dance... with you.”

“If the Captains find out we’re dancing, they’re gonna be all over you.” 

“No one can find us in all this fabric, sweet. I’m not afraid.” 

“My fabrics are organized, I’ll have you know. The organization system is ‘not on my cot.’” 

“You should try by color - I could help. Honoria has enlisted me as a clothes rack many times.” 

Klinger kissed him for allowing him to imagine such a thing. This time, Charles took the lead, threaded his fingers through that dark hair. When he drew back, Klinger was sweetly dazed. “You would permit me to get away with absolutely anything, wouldn’t you?” 

“I really like you.” He grinned. “Tall, broad shouldered, gorgeous, could pick me up and throw me with no problem... checks everything off my list.” He then expanded on this with, “Sweet, can throw a good line back and forth with me— what more could I want?” 

“Pick you up?” Charles’ hands slid down his body and rested on his waist. 

“Didn’t I mention that before?” 

“No you did not. Anything else I might need to know?” 

“Feel free to physically rip my fatigues off me  _ any time _ .” 

“That first,” Charles agreed. “ _ Then  _ lift you up.” 

Klinger laughed in his hands; the Major was every bit as much fun as he’d hoped. “Are you choreographing, sir?” 

“Planning. Any good dance has choreography. Tell me what to do, Max. I’ll learn the steps.”  _ Even if it kills me.  _

“I don’t wanna push you, sir.”

Charles chuckled at this; even leading him, Klinger put him in charge. “Maxwell, you've complained before that I speak far too much. I assure you I am capable of asking you to stop if the need arises.”

“You just use too many big words sometimes. I’ll teach you the fun little ones.” 

“Those 'fun little ones' may overwhelm me.”

“I’ll get you to say ‘fuck’ yet, Harvard.” 

Charles bit playfully at the edge of his mouth, his nose. “I imagine you could get me to say most anything you wished. I don't suppose you would provide the context in which you would like to hear such a thing said?”

“I’ll take what I can get, Major.” 

“I am suggesting that what you can get is, ah, anything you want. Everything you want.”

“Sir?” 

“I may be wrong, Maxwell, love, but when you said you were the perfect partner… there are times, are there not, when you would, ah, rather be Ginger Rogers than Fred Astaire, no?” 

Klinger suddenly wished to cashier the metaphors. Charles was on to something quite serious (to Max, anyway) and Max wanted to understand. “Major, I think I know what you’re tiptoeing around, but I really need to hear it plain, sir.” 

“You look scared, darling.”

“I am. Nobody else… well, let’s hear it first, then we’ll see.”

“I do not… this is not a frivolous undertaking for me, Maxwell.” 

“I know. Me neither.” It was one of the things they had in common. “It’s part of why you don’t like those movies.” 

“If I do not mess this up and you allow me to keep seeing you… I wish you to be assured that I want to see  _ all _ of you.” He cleared his throat. “I think… I think there are times you want to be a, ah,  _ different _ than you are. I can give you that. I want to give you that. You simply need to help me know when it is, ah, proper.”

Klinger’s eyes were huge and sparkling. Charles braced himself; he had probably said too much… and badly… and insulted this lovely creature. 

“I am sorry, Max. I, ah, I must have misunderstood,” 

He got no further. Maxwell Q. Klinger wasn’t tall, but he was tough and, shaking with happiness at being recognized as his truest self, he barrelled into his lover hard enough to take them both down onto the messy floor of the tent. Once there, he did all he could to burrow into Charles’ side, face buried in his neck. Uncertain, Charles stroked his hair until he had modified his emotions enough to re-emerge. 

“Oh, Major…” was all he managed to say at first, but the words were freighted with feeling. 

“I was… I did not overstep?” 

“No.” He clung tight. “Nobody’s ever… not even anybody back home… you’re saying you’ll let me dress like I want with you?” 

Stroking his cheek, Charles went one better. “Beneath me, too. Inside me if you wish it, darling.” 

Klinger whined. “Major!” 

“Let us make a trade, I shall call you - what?” He drew one of Klinger’s legs back around his waist. “My good girl, perhaps? Will that suit?” 

Klinger  _ melted _ against him. His eyes were desperate, worshipful. He nodded. 

Charles stroked down his splayed legs, thinking of what it would be like to kiss  _ up _ them. “And you will call me by name? Sometimes?” 

“Charles?” he tried it out, voice tentative.  _ My Charles.  _ In answer, the Major kissed the warm flesh of his neck, made his pulse jump. “Charles…” 

“Now, pet? You wish to be my girl now?” 

“Just  _ yours  _ now - however you want.” Max shook his head, thinking that he’d been worried to push Charles too fast! 

“Mine always.”

Maxwell chuckled under his mouth. “Winchester motto?” 

“Winchester  _ promise _ . You will be mine and I will be yours and we will be happy.” 

Max framed his face with loving hands. “And better than any movie flickering up on the wall?” 

“Most definitely.” 

And warm and soft and gentle in one another’s arms - they were. 

End 

  
  
  
  



End file.
